Partners trust
by TheMezzinator
Summary: When Tony starts to spiral out of control, Ziva intervenes to save her troubled partner. A sequel to Square One.


Partners Trust

Sequel to Square One.

When Tony's drinking starts to get out of hand, Ziva steps in to help and makes a few startling discoveries regarding her relationship with him.

A/N: This story has been a while in the making. Mainly cause I'm a little conflicted on what's going to happen in season 7. Also, because this story was so hard to write. I don't know much about alcoholism, drinking or going cold turkey, aside from what I've read on the 'net and seen in the media. So, the depictions of Tony's battle with alcoholism are probably wildly inaccurate. The intent is not to give a incorrect view of substance abuse but rather to show its affect on Tony and Ziva's relationship.

Please read and review!

* * *

NCIS squadroom

"Night, everyone," said Tony as he took a deep breath before standing up at his desk. He'd been relegated to desk duty for nearly a month now. A not so subtle reminder that his performance of late was subpar. The world wasn't working properly for him. His equilibrium was shot and the pounding headache he'd had all day was making him short tempered and combative with his teammates, Tim McGee and Ziva David. He avoided interaction with his boss, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, as much as possible. Gibbs had a way of seeing through his crap like few others did. Grabbing his backpack, he made his way to the elevator, being sure to make his way there by touching the walls every few steps. Fortunately, he had a sure fire remedy for what ailed him at home.

"Boss," McGee said in a cautious tone as he watched Tony get onto the elevator. "What are we going to do?"

"We are not going to do anything, McGee," Gibbs replied. "This is all on him. He has to be the one to set things right with himself." Watching DiNozzo slowly succumb to alcoholism was destroying the morale of the team. They all knew the pain Tony was experiencing. But if he interfered, the problem could only escalate and force him to take action.

"Why not? Can't you make him get help?" asked Ziva.

"Can't," replied McGee.

"Why?" she replied.

"If Gibbs writes him up for substance abuse, then Tony's career with NCIS will be irreparably damaged," McGee said, sighing. "Gibbs is right. Tony's got to sort this out on his own. If we interfere, it will just cause more problems for Tony."

Ziva sighed and pushed her chair back away from her desk. She stood up briskly and gathered her backpack and purse. "Very well, then. I will see you tomorrow."

"Night, Ziva," Tim replied, smiling at her. Ziva looked at him for a second then quickly turned and headed towards the elevator. When she got on the elevator, Tim looked over at Gibbs. "What do you think, boss?"

Gibbs shrugged. "Just have to wait and see."

* * *

Ziva's apartment

Three hours later

'I hate that man,' she thought, soaking in her bathtub. No, not hate. Disappointment. Disillusionment. Disgust. He had fallen so far. It seemed impossible. Tony had always bounced back from whatever life had thrown at him. 'Was it like this when Jenny died?', she wondered.

'Why do you care?' her darker self said spitefully. 'He hurt us. Destroyed our trust in him. Our faith in him.'

'He was prepared to sacrifice his career to protect us,' her heart reminded her. 'He killed to protect us, to rescue us. How many terrorists did he kill in Somalia?'

"Six," Ziva whispered softly. "He never hesitated. He put my welfare before his own." There was only one thing to do.

* * *

Tony's apartment

30 minutes later

Ziva hesitated before knocking on the apartment door. When it swung open on the first knock, she immediately drew her Sig and cautiously opened the door. "David, coming in," she announced. The apartment was, putting it mildly, a disaster. Empty pizza boxes were everywhere as were fast food wrappers and empty cartons of Chinese food. Not surprisingly, there were empty bottles of scotch scattered throughout the living room.

"Huh? What's going on?" Tony said, sitting up from where he'd lying on the couch. "Who's there?"

"It's me, Tony," she replied, holstering her gun and walking to him. The coffee table was covered with bottles of scotch and remnants of many meals. The stench reminded of several unpleasant places she'd been to in her earlier days as a Mossad field officer. "I came to check on you. Your recent behavior has everyone on edge."

Tony fumed silently. "I wasn't aware we were at the 'I care about my partners feelings'-stage yet."

"I was concerned about you, that's all," she replied, hiding a sigh of relief. Mixed with the relief, though, was shock at how far Tony had succumbed to alcoholism. He was clearly doing a very good job of hiding the seriousness of his illness from the rest of the team.

"I'm flattered," he said, his words slurring slightly as he carefully stood up. A part of him was ashamed that she was seeing him like this. Another just wanted her gone. "Ziva, I'm a big boy. I can handle my liquor," Tony said, smirking. "I learned the right way to get drunk a long time ago."

"Oh, really? You had trouble walking to the elevator this afternoon! That's hardly a glowing recommendation of your drinking skills." Ziva snarled at him. "You're going to be stuck on desk duty until you straighten yourself out, Tony. There's no way Gibbs is going to send a hungover agent out into the field."

"I'm fine," Tony snapped. "I just had a little too much last night."

"Tony, you have a problem," she snapped back. "And it's going to get someone killed if you don't do something about it."

"I'M FINE!," he shouted insistently.

"No, you're not, Tony," Ziva stated. "You have a problem. And, you're the only one who can't see it."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Tony said, his anger steadily rising.

"Perhaps not. But I know what I can see. "

"Ziva, I... I just want things back the way they were," Tony confessed.

"Did it ever occur to you that perhaps I want things back the way they were, too?" Ziva shouted, tearfully. She took a deep cleansing breath before continuing. "You have no idea how alone I am right now. I cannot go home to Israel or Mossad. I cannot trust my father. Gibbs. You."

Ziva closed her eyes before opening them again and looking directly into his eyes. "I need you, Tony. I need your strength. I have so many conflicting emotions right now, I too am having trouble focusing on the job at hand."

"Ziva," Tony started to say.

"Please, Tony. You want us to be partners again. To trust each other as we once did. So do I," she admitted. "But, I will never be able to trust you in the field if you keep drinking yourself into a stupor every night. What are you going to do if I die because you were too hungover to watch my back? What will you do?"

Tony looked down at the trash-covered floor. An image appeared in his mind: Ziva lying on the ground, her eyes open and glazing over in death. A single bullet hole in her forehead. Blood pouring out the back of her head. A chill ran though him as he contemplated the image. "I'd be right behind you."

Ziva flinched at his words but said nothing. She understood the sentiment. She, too, would probably think such thoughts if he died because of her negligence. It was a disquieting thought. They were certainly two peas in a pod. Both badly damaged by the other. Both needing the other just to make it through the day.

"What's happening to me?"

"You're hurting. We both are. We've hurt each other so badly we're barely functioning."

"I never wanted things to come to this. I was just trying to protect you," Tony said despondently. "GOD! What's happening to me?" he repeated. "How did I let things get this out of control?"

"You need help, Tony," implored Ziva. "You have to stop drinking."

"Yeah. Gibbs'll kill me if I show up hungover again," he said, snorting. "I may just let him." Tony took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "I'm going to have to do this the hard way," he said, shaking his head.

"What do you mean?"

"Go cold turkey. Let my body purge the alcohol from my system over the next couple of days," Tony explained.

"Isn't that dangerous?" she asked.

"It's the only way. If I check into a clinic or hospital for detox, it'll go on my permanent record," Tony said, then abruptly he started laughing.

"What?"

"The irony. I've nearly destroyed my career and now I'm worried about losing it," he said, shaking his head.

Ziva smiled. Perhaps he would be okay. Perhaps they both would be.

"You don't need to be here for this. I can handle it alone. It's not the first time I've gone cold turkey. Go home. Get some rest. I'll see you Tuesday or so," Tony said, smiling at her confusion. "Trust me. The next few days are going to be pure hell."

Ziva nodded, inwardly disagreeing with him. He knew nothing of hell. "Very well. If you need anything, do not hesitate to call. I will come immediately."

"Understood," Tony said, smiling, for the time in weeks. "Partner."

Ziva regarded him for a moment, then stepped up close to him and kissed him lightly on both cheeks. She smiled at him, nodded perfunctorily and then left the apartment. She walked out to the parking lot thinking about all that had transpired. Her earlier revelation sprung forth into her mind. She looked over at her car and then back towards Tony's apartment. Walking away and leaving him to face his his demons alone was the easy way out. No. She could never do that to him. Ziva spun on her heel, squared her shoulders and headed back to Tony's apartment. For better or worse, he was her partner. She would not abandon him when he needed her.

Tony looked at her in surprise as he opened the door. "Did you forget something?"

"Yes," she replied. "We are partners and partners look out for one another. No matter what."


End file.
